Hoodoo
by The Almighty Ro
Summary: There is a release of air, almost a sigh, and two pinpricks of purple open in the black. They glow faintly and flicker under heavy grey lids as they threaten to close and snuff out the only light left to the room; thick black lashes dip to brush soft cheeks that have long since lost their childish roundness and nearly succeed.


Disclaimer: I do not own, claim to own, or pretend to own the characters involved in this work of fiction. Especially the one being subject to hypnosis.

Enjoy, su!

**Hoodoo**

The dark is thick and cloying, silent like the grave. It slithers up cold walls and and hides in corners searching, ever searching, ever hungry, with gaping maw and icy fingers as it seeks to catch and choke any light that threatens to bleed through. There is no place for light in the canabal black, and it's shadows lengthen and crawl in the dark.

There is a release of air, almost a sigh, and two pinpricks of purple open in the black. They glow faintly and flicker under heavy grey lids as they threaten to close and snuff out the only light left to the room; thick black lashes dip to brush soft cheeks that have long since lost their childish roundness and nearly succeed.

Cold fingers brush the tiny grey freckles pinpricking his skin and this time Karkat sucks in a breath, glowing eyes snapping open.

"Shh," Gamzee breathes as his thumb presses against his moirail's lower lip. The soft skin shapes and molds to the pad and Gamzee marvels at it's warmth, at how pliant it is under his touch. If he were to push his Voodoo's just a little more, planted the seed of the idea in just the right soil, his friend could be persuaded to kiss it.

The Voodoo's are already rolling through ways to plant the seed when Karkat kisses his thumb anyway, and a warm thrill shoots through him to rest between his legs. Gamzee sighs at the rush of pleasure; it would be so easy to flip on him, he thinks, to gut their pale diamond and let it bleed red. All he would have to do would be to take from his moirail what he wanted, but he knew Karkat would never forgive him. Karkat needed him pale, even if he didn't need to be pacified anymore. There wasn't anymore rage left in him after that first righteous papping, but there was no way his best bro would let their quadrant flip. There wasn't a whole lot his blasphemous brother believed in, but if there was one motherfucking thing he got his faith on, it was the black and white sharp corners of his quadrants that had all been preached to him since hatching.

(Even if he was halfway to red himself.)

Right now, though, he only has eyes for him, and when he smiles it is wide and tender as he leans into Gamzee's touch. The light from his moirail's eyes cast stark shadows against his unpainted face, glistening off of knife-sharp teeth. He is a tall wraith in the teaming shadows as tiny tendrils skitter around them, but to Karkat he is God. His eyes are twin purple pools of blind devotion and it fills Gamzee with power.

"Oh brother," he breathes like an oath. The shadows lengthen as his moirail's eyes gleam fever-bright with the Voodoo's. "Oh brother, mine."

Long skeletal fingers press against his jaw and tilt it up so that he can press a red-pale kiss right in the middle of his forehead like a blessing. Karkat practically vibrates with pleasure and he lifts a hand to wrap around his wrist. His touch is like liquid fire, burning brighter than the Alternian sun, and Gamzee thinks he may just lose it after all; these midnight meetings to whisper wicked whimsy into the fertile soil of his mind aren't enough, will never be enough, and the way his lips are still molded to his thumb is making him slick with need. He's drunk on power over him and the way Karkat trills softly when he leans in to kiss him on the mouth, trilling back as the already planted seeds of desire and worship take and sprout. Karkat is so desperate to be loved that they begin to flower and grow almost immediately.

He kisses his thumb again as it brushes the swollen skin of his lip.

Gamzee's pants are tight when he pulls back enough to behold his handywork. "Oh brother," he whispers again, fingers cool against his soft cheeks. Karkat's glowing eyes are two rapt pinpricks of light that keep the shadows at bay and Gamzee has to remind himself that this is all he can allow himself. For now, at least.

Anymore and he'll lose his brother for good.

With one last press of lips to the fevered skin of his forehead, Gamzee smiles grimly into the dark. "Faith looks motherfucking beautiful on you."

**End**

I posted this on Tumblre for 4/13, but figured I ought to post it on here as well. You know, to prove I am not yet dead and all. Life has just been really hectic and complicated lately and I am only recently writing again. So enjoy my first Homestuck fic?

**Reviews save lives. They also help give the author her life back.**


End file.
